Twain
by artemis-nz
Summary: Misaki, Akihiko, and a mirror. Usami/Misaki. Lemon.


When Akihiko opens the bedroom door, having apparently approached too quietly for Misaki to hear him coming, the last thing he expects to see is his lover examining himself intently in the mirror, shirt unbuttoned and blushing slightly at whatever Akihiko has caught him thinking about.

Misaki startles guiltily and immediately makes a beeline for the door, holding his shirt closed and mumbling something Akihiko doesn't catch, but Akihiko blocks the door with his body and then walks further in, prompting Misaki to hastily backtrack.

"What were you doing just now, Misaki?"

"Nothing", Misaki says too quickly, and Akihiko smirks.

"Is that so?" Akihiko gestures towards the mirror. "Maybe you saw something you liked? Or… maybe it was something you thought _I'd_ like?" He enjoys teasing Misaki, because it's so easy to get a rise out of him, and because he's pretty sure Misaki secretly enjoys it too.

"As if! I was just thinking about… um, which shirt would look better on me! For a party next week."

He folds his arms defensively, and Akihiko raises an eyebrow. "Since when did you start caring about clothes?"

"Just… it's none of your business! Leave me alone."

"It's my bedroom", Akihiko points out smugly, and watches Misaki grow more flustered. In fact, Akihiko doesn't find it particularly strange that Misaki would be looking at himself. He's a young man now, not a boy, and it's fairly natural for Misaki – late bloomer that he is – to be getting increasingly curious about his own body, but that doesn't mean he's going to let Misaki go without having a little fun first.

Akihiko takes another step forward, and Misaki another step back, and then Akihiko reaches for him – not for his wrists, as Misaki had plainly been expecting, but instead for his back.

"Hey! Let go!"

Akihiko has no intention of doing so. Holding Misaki in place, Akihiko moves behind rather than in front of him, and then they're both facing the polished surface of the mirror, and Akihiko is running his fingers slowly through Misaki's hair.

"What the- Usagi-san, cut it out!"

"No. Besides – what if you happen to like what you see after all?"

"What are you talking abo-"

And then the Misaki in his grasp makes eye contact with the Misaki in the mirror, and his body becomes abruptly motionless.

Playfully, Akihiko fingers the still-open shirt, and it slips from Misaki's shoulders with little resistance – most likely, Akihiko thinks, because his oh-so-delightfully-innocent Misaki is too shocked to move. He stares, transfixed, at his reflection, and though it is far from cold, Akihiko can feel goose bumps forming on Misaki's skin.

"Mmm…" Akihiko inhales appreciatively, breathing in the scent of him as he lowers his head to kiss the bared flesh.

"U-Usagi-san, what… what are you… we shouldn't-" Misaki's voice is far less sure now, annoyance giving way to something else, and Akihiko pauses.

Interesting, that Misaki's reaction after he has gotten over his initial surprise is one of nervousness rather than embarrassed bluster. Oh, Misaki is definitely embarrassed – the flush in his cheeks, the slight tremor of his hands as he clenches them tight, is a testament to that – but his instinctive response isn't to yell at Akihiko to stop or try to shove the older man away. In fact, apart from his earlier words, Misaki has made no move to attempt even a token gesture of anger.

"Of course we should", Akihiko says after a moment, intentionally pitching his voice slightly lower than usual. "What better time to take advantage of the circumstances than this?" He does not bother to lift his head, so that his lips ghost over Misaki's skin as he speaks.

Misaki shivers, and he is still gazing intently into the mirror as his own lips part to draw breath. It's shaky, almost a gasp, and Akihiko can practically see the internal struggle going on in Misaki's head. Misaki wants to look away – in his mind, this is perverted, obscene, disgusting – but at the same time, he is enthralled. He has never seen himself before, not truly; always too self-conscious and too ashamed to really _look_, being suddenly confronted by such a thing is at once both terrifying and hypnotising. Emotionally, he has no idea how to respond – though, happily, Misaki's body knows exactly what it wants.

"Ahh… n-no, wait, Usagi-san, I'm not…"

"How about we both just enjoy the show for now, hmm? Nobody else is watching… just you and me, all to ourselves…"

"But-" Misaki breaks off to inhale sharply again as Akihiko's fingers move to part the shirt further, grazing his chest in the process and causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. Only for a moment, however – the next moment they're wide open again, and from the dazed expression on Misaki's face, he doesn't even realise that Akihiko isn't even holding him still anymore. Misaki could run, if he really wanted to… but he doesn't – or at least, if a part of his does, there's a bigger part of him that's telling him to stay.

Beneath his hands, Misaki's body is fast becoming heated, and there's already the tell-tale signs that he is becoming more aroused just by looking. Akihiko's taking it slowly – he's barely touched Misaki yet – but those green eyes have gotten darker, and his pulse has grown rapid. It flutters under Akihiko's mouth as the blonde finally explores further with his mouth, tasting the faint saltiness, tracing lazy patterns with his tongue.

Misaki jerks, and he tries and fails to mask his answering groan. "Ah! Not t-there, Usagi-san, please…!"

"No? Perhaps over here, then." The shirt falls noiselessly to the ground as Akihiko peels it completely off, and his arms wrap themselves around Misaki's torso – not pinning him there, but simply holding him for the sake of further contact. Normally Akihiko would be pulling off his own clothes as well by now, but this is far too interesting for him to want to interrupt anything – and anyway, there's more than one kind of pleasure he gets from working Misaki into such a state. Making love to Misaki is of course an experience unlike any other, but seeing Misaki so wound up, and seeing Misaki see _himself_ like this… well. That's something even more intoxicating in its own way.

And frankly, Akihiko isn't sure he's ever witnessed anything quite like it. Misaki is still staring at himself in the mirror like he's utterly incapable of doing anything else – and for all Akihiko knows, he isn't. It's as though Misaki is unable to even blink now, and even when one of Akihiko's hands slides down, down, burrowing its way beneath the elastic of Misaki's trousers, the younger male barely moves. His mouth shapes words that remain unspoken, and there's sweat forming tiny beads on his forehead as Akihiko gently bites the shell of his ear, but Misaki only stares at the twin reflections, watching himself being fondled and obviously getting off on that very thing. Whether or not he consciously recognises the fact right now, there's something within Misaki that's responding very strongly to the sight.

Akihiko certainly doesn't mind either. He's hard, because there's never a time where he _doesn't_ find Misaki desirable, but for the time being, he has little interest in doing much about it – not when Misaki is straining against his touch, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body all but begging for more. He moans as Akihiko's hand drags slowly down the length of him, caress still soft for now, and tries to squirm closer. Akihiko's other arm is still wrapped about his chest though, and Akihiko sighs his own gratification. He's never had to hold Misaki back from seeking closer, stronger contact before – at least, not in this way. Not that Akihiko has a problem with Misaki wanting more, but he's loathe to end things too quickly.

And so he watches Misaki bite his lip in frustration, naked longing in his eyes and whimpering as Akihiko strokes him, deliberately and unhurriedly. Misaki is burning now, panting and writhing, and his next gasp is desperate. He gives a cry as Akihiko licks a hot line from his neck to his collarbone, then teases one of his nipples as his other hand continues to move.

A little more swiftly now, a little less gently. The noises coming from Misaki are needy and urgent, and Akihiko knows it can't go on for much longer. On the verge of losing control, Misaki cannot help himself – as though under a spell, still gazing at the sight of himself being pleasured by another, he abandons all dignity and starts thrusting in earnest, pushing himself further into Akihiko's touch and then pulling back to rub feverishly against his lover's own arousal.

Oh god. Akihiko hadn't anticipated that. He groans, not trying to hide the sound from Misaki, knowing that it will probably serve to make him even more frantic.

"Ahhh! U-Usagi-san, it's too- I'm going to-" Misaki is nearly sobbing, and Akihiko closes his eyes, allowing Misaki alone to witness the display as he strokes hard and fast. They're both of them sweating, aching, ready, and Akihiko has no need to look to know that Misaki has reached breaking point.

His limbs give one final, powerless jerk and then he's coming, crying out, spilling into Akihiko's hand as his legs give out from under him.

He's still shaking as Akihiko bears them both safely to the ground. The floor is blessedly cool, and when Akihiko eventually opens his eyes, it's to find that Misaki's have finally closed. He is sprawled out on his side, a boneless heap. Spent, he does not stir when Akihiko kisses his shoulder, though sleep must still be at least a few minutes away.

"Ahh, Misaki… you don't know what you do to me." He brushes the damp hair from Misaki's brow and then kisses that too, and his lips – as softly as he knows how.

Misaki's eyelids flutter, but either he's decided not to reply or he really is on the edge of sleep, for he simply sighs and goes completely still again. Ah well – Akihiko cannot blame him.

He'll be absolutely mortified whenever he next wakes up, of course. But for now, Akihiko has every intention of letting Misaki have his peace. He's certainly earned that much.

"Sleep well, Misaki."

His only answer is a well-timed snore.


End file.
